


Unfit

by interstellartreasure



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Unreliable Narrator, also bc he's a pretentious asshole despite what he says, but they aren't the main focus, hegemol is mentioned. emilitia. dryya. and lurien's butler show up, like. WAY prior to the infection. isma isn't even part of the knights yet, mostly bc of victor's patronizing comments toward lurien, takes place prior to the infection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellartreasure/pseuds/interstellartreasure
Summary: Victor takes it upon himself to be the watcher's companion despite Lurien's clear request to be left alone. This goes over just as well as any would expect.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Unfit

An incredibly rare sight, it was, to view the King’s Watcher out of his spire. Rare, but not so surprising. The queen gathered all of note for this occasion; Lurien was certainly never one to deny such a call.

Unfortunately for him, Victor wasted no time in utilizing this opportunity, immediately moving to his side. Personally, the baron considered it a great success to catch the flinch in his stride. With detached warmth, “Lurien.”

“Hello, Victor.”

A grin crept onto his face. “I take it we’ve agreed to come to first name basis, then?”

“Yet again, you are mistaken.” The watcher took a sharp turn away from Victor’s approach, though he followed suit swiftly enough, falling in line just a beat behind him. “To acknowledge my name is sense, regardless of the disrespect now paired with how lenient you have become.”

“Oh, believe me, I would never mean _any_ disrespect, Watcher,” Victor swore emptily. The other spared but a glance behind himself, warily keeping track of the baron’s movements. “I merely extend my attempts at a truce, if not something more.”

Lurien paused, setting himself down at a small table before crafting his response. “Do tell me Baron, have you many close affiliates?”

“Plenty, friends or no. I'm not so picky. Have you?”

“Why must you _insist_ on adding another?”

“I would be honored to _willingly_ have your presence.”

The watcher turned his gaze toward the crowd. “Baron, I hardly found the time to attend this—a gathering set by Lady Root herself. Forgive me, but any time spent beside you is better off at my spire.”

“Ah, Watcher, why not invite me to join you up in your spire if this is so?”

“I shall not.”

Victor did not falter. “If you allow—as rumors tell it—such common folk into your beloved spire, surely you could spare myself the same pleasure?”

“I had never thought you as one to take rumors as truth, even the very ones you begin.”

So that’s how it was. Victor changed his approach, following Lurien’s attention to the entrance. Who would he wait for?

“Does another join you?”

Ever so slightly, did he relax. “Yes, my butler.”

Oh, the one supposedly from Dirtmouth. Victor withheld a laugh. “Such _timing._ ”

“They _are_ city-born.” Lurien took a breath as if to continue the thought, but stopped himself. Again, he was visibly tense; his shoulders went flat, a small tell of many Victor had picked up in his time pestering the watcher.

“Not that such a thing matters,” Victor continued for him with a grin.

“No,” He muttered. The admission was clear enough. It was almost adorable, how he worked to protect the dignity of one so inconsequential.

“All servants of expendable, no matter their origins.”

The other slowly turned to stare at him.

“Not that I’ll complain, of course, it’s through the initial endorsement of those like them that I retain my rank.”

“Is that not manipulative?”

“What speak you of manipulation, when the very people you govern are those which hardly see you?”

A pause. “Most were aware of my presence prior to the king granting me the title of Watcher.”

“And yet a title given through luck by the king’s draw rather than risen to by our people’s support.” Despite the jab, he knew quite well the watcher was wonderful in his role. It was through his very first task of reconstructing the city that Victor was returned his work at all.

Of course, he would not acknowledge such a fact in these moments. It’d only be detrimental, another factor he frankly didn’t care for taking into account.

“You are questioning our King’s decision in his own palace,” Lurien noted quietly.

“With good reason.” Victor leaned closer, holding his voice as stable as he could manage. “Who _were_ you, to grab _his_ attention? To be so supposedly prominent in _my_ city, when I had not ever heard the name ‘Lurien’ at _any-_ ”

“No.”

A sharp laugh. “ _No?_ ”

“You are not entitled to who I was, regardless of your prior role as Overseer—which, if I may remind you, has been disbanded in Hallownest’s Heart despite your and Emilitia’s attempts to reinstate something so redundant. You have your newfound work, I have my own. Our tasks are all that matter. I fail to see why you feel the need to linger on much else, especially topics trivial as this.”

The baron slowly eased back. His tone sharpened, “Very well, Watcher. Think yourself an object. This may be the king’s favored approach, but it does not shield you from _our_ people’s judgement.”

“You misconstrue my emphasis on duty for lack of care. Especially among such blatant insults, I find little reason to associate personally with _you_.”

“Yet you and I still share more than some dull commoner plucked off the street. I cannot believe _that_ is the one you indulge.”

“You were once of them, as I recall.” Even with his steady tone, Lurien’s glare held evident. Funny, almost, that Victor had already found the most frustrated response the other would ever visibly betray. There was once a point he’d dare further prodding in an attempt to catch something more, all for naught; the most he accomplished was lowering Lurien's opinion of him. “Status is hardly indicative of one’s talent, let alone worth. I know you to be well aware of this.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “In a community such as ours, it’s really only status that gets you anywhere. _I_ know you are not so foolish as to deny this as well.”

“These truths may coexist.”

“One holds more importance over the other, wouldn’t you say? Even an idealist cannot so flippantly disregard rank’s clear visibility and, by extension, power.”

“I tire of your back and forth.”

“Yet you entertain me nonetheless.”

“Out of decency, nothing more.”

However unusual a reason, Victor knew it to be not the strangest defense Lurien had used to excuse his behavior. Were he any other, there was no doubt in Victor’s mind he’d be cast out by now with how carelessly they clashed.

Perhaps he ought to thank the king for choosing one with endless patience rather than exploiting it as haphazardly as he does, prodding at Lurien as if he were nothing more than a docile Uoma. Or, he supposed Ooma was a more practical comparison; he was searching for a way to scrape past his untold, the needless charades, to find the watcher’s _core,_ regardless of what reaction he would be met with. Genuine moments slipped through, occasionally, but nothing salvageable enough to find _Lurien._ Yet.

Or so he hoped.

Despite his everlasting presence in the capital, Victor’s cycles beside him, what Emilitia gathered from her attempts at advising, and what had been picked up by his own servants, nothing was quite _Lurien_ —anything spoken with credibility was the watcher.

Of course, the King’s Watcher would be met with warm regard nonetheless: he had done unmeasured good for the capital, built them up from a moment of vulnerability that had not been seen since Victor’s own beginnings as Overseer. However, none had much to speak of beneath his title, these visible deeds. Lurien, himself, wasn’t shared with any but the king as it appeared.

And yet, was it not this very same king who encouraged the people of Hallownest to make themselves known to _all?_

In fact, the Pale King had once praised Victor for his forward demeanor. It was typically well-received and read as respectable candor, especially in comparison to the other Overseers and their foolish games they often failed to hide. The king had always spoken highly of truth above all. Clarity was valued. Actions ought to be taken with sincerity, never excused as instinct. The king produced Hallownest with a single request: his people were to bear themselves as they were.

Why was Lurien his exception?

As appreciated as the little watcher was now, Victor was _known_ throughout the capital. _Victor_ held the people’s respect far longer, had given significantly more to the king, sworn the very same oath as Knight Hegemol had all those cycles ago— _he_ was the candidate for Watcher, not some… strange, stubborn recluse.

Watcher Lurien was an objection to all Victor had achieved, placed in charge of Hallownest’s Heart by his own King.

It did not make _sense._

“How did you even manage to meet our King?”

Lurien had returned to waiting idly, not bothering so much as a glance. “Have I not told you I no longer wish to speak of this?”

“ _I_ first met His Majesty well into my life, though I’m certain I don’t look it. _You,_ even now, are significantly younger than I was in my first encounter, is this not true?”

“I suppose.”

“How would one young as yourself _ever_ find a chance to so much as witness him, then?”

“You called it ‘luck’.”

“I would appreciate your recount of it.”

“I am sure you would.”

Of course. Victor sighed, resigned to his own thoughts once more.

There _were_ quiet rumors to answer this, for a while. Victor wasn’t all that disappointed when they’d faded. Most spun ridiculous tales—as Victor recalled, there was one circulating claiming Lurien was somehow a mix of Beast and bug beneath all that, the king having chosen to cover him up out of _fear._

Laughable, really, that they imagined the king thought so little of them; he was a kinder figure than Victor ever tried to be as Overseer. Skittish as Hallownest’s people were, it was by the king’s guarantee Deepnest’s threat was neutralized that the questions and caution would soon fade to comfort or even _awe_ in that he had successfully taken in one of them, were this the story. The king trusted his people would find the better side of his decisions, arrive to his reasoning on their own.

So, no, for Lurien covering up being by the king’s command was not only wrong, but outright disrespectful doubt of both the king’s integrity and themselves.

Another, similarly irrational whisper suggested Lurien’s origins as the prior companion to that other Wyrm from the wastes beyond, inducted into Hallownest after the other’s failure and supposed death. It was a reach, to say the least. Dryya had warned the capital of a _singular_ figure; it would be ridiculous to doubt her, she was known for being thorough.

Speaking of, Victor just barely caught Lurien’s quiet note.

“Dryya is late.”

“Later than _you?_ To her own Lady’s celebration?” Victor scoffed, following the watcher’s gaze only to fall silent.

Dryya swiftly worked her way through the scattered crowds, falling in line by the queen’s side without issue. Lurien carefully scanned through the attendees. “Would you suppose Ogrim is with the Pale King?”

“Ogrim and Dryya are tied to their respective Lord and Lady’s sides.”

“Yes, I _know_ that,” Lurien waved his comment aside with a scowl. “I only thought the king favored nights such as these alone, allowing Ogrim to continue his duties elsewhere—one would assume he would join us here, now.”

“Oh, by all accounts Ogrim _should_ be here, but it’s nothing quite so serious. Hardly anyone knows what the Knights intend to do, the Four are a strange lot—notably that one the Teacher favors, Emér something-or-other.”

“Ze’mer,” Lurien corrected flatly. “Her name is Ze’mer. They are not such an usual one, you merely must work through her accent.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take to heart that one is not strange by _your_ account.”

The watcher didn’t bother with a reply. Victor glanced to Dryya, now whispering to the queen. He was, indeed, curious of what was being spoken—especially as the two gazes flickered over him.

Or, he supposed, Dryya could’ve been looking at Lurien, though that one was too caught up elsewhere.

“Hm,” Victor began. “Do you suppose Dryya heard you mention she was late?”

“Why?”

“She’s coming this way.”

Lurien turned, stiff as she approached; Victor gave a silent wave, to which she returned a quiet nod of acknowledgement.

“Dryya, what brings you here?” Victor asked smoothly.

“Watcher Lurien—I’ve news concerning Hegemol.”

Unmistakable worry slipped into his voice. “Oh?”

“May we?” She offered a hand. “I believe the hall is quieter for this, and our Lady is nearly about to begin.”

Lurien stood on his own, quietly denying her offer. “Go on.”

“Farewell, Watcher. Do return soon,” Victor called as Lurien followed Dryya elsewhere.

As she had told, all were ushered into silence not long after the two’s departure. Lady Root began her typical introductory speech mere moments afterward, gathering everyone’s attention and voicing her appreciation for each one’s attendance. She went on to congratulate those involved in a few important events, somehow managing to invoke pride despite the words being ones Victor’s heard countless times before for several separate events. There was nothing quite so disastrous this year to break through her expected speech, not that he’d wish anything such as that upon the kingdom. She ended with thanking them for their work toward keeping Hallownest, and wishing another cycle for Hallownest to prosper.

As she stepped away, it took mere moments for voices to refill the room, just a touch more energetic than before. Victor sat alone, waiting.

And waiting.

Even as Dryya returned, Lurien hadn’t. He nearly called for her, but the Knight, dutiful as ever, was already on her way to her Lady’s side.

He sighed. He supposed it wasn’t much issue to see for himself whether or not Lurien had already left for the city; he had little else to do and wasn’t so keen on searching for another table which wouldn’t be a conversational pain to sort through. For Lurien to leave just as the evening begun would be a shame, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. He ought to check before moving on.

Victor’s steps were swift, exit quiet as he found his way along the hall. Lurien stood a distinct figure against the majestic endless white of the palace, staring blankly below at a group of flowers set against the wall, no doubt chosen to decorate the hall’s entrance by the queen herself. He could swear he recognized this assortment from here.

“Lurien!” He called cheerfully. Where usually followed exasperation, there was naught but a flinch in response. Victor paused, half considering to turn back and ask Dryya for some context, if possible, before beginning anything with him in this state. He had no idea (other than some untimely death) what news could’ve been brought for his reaction to be so grim, and was not fond of guessing should Lurien once again fail to provide an answer.

But, no, he was already too close to turn away. He followed through.

“Watcher, what’s happened?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

Victor extended a hand only for Lurien to shift away. Despite the sharp glare and his rigid pose, the command only sounded weary. “Cease.”

“I only meant to offer comfort,” Victor explained, stepping back with a sigh. “Are you to return to the city already?”

“No, the Heart holds under Hegemol’s guidance alone tonight.” Lurien’s gaze drifted away from Victor again. “I shall rejoin this celebration shortly, but if you have come searching for reason or permission to go on without me, you have it.”

“And speak with who instead? Really, Watcher, the higher-caste is full of egotistical, insufferable pricks.”

“What a wonder you do not get along.”

Ouch. He tried once more. “I’d thought Dryya bore news of Hegemol.”

“She did.”

“What happened to him, then? Supposedly nothing serious, if that old f-”

“Did you not retain a word I said?” Lurien looked toward him, quieter yet clear as ever. “His health is  _ not _ a subject for  _ you _ to speculate on. Leave me be.”

He decidedly ignored that request, leaning against the wall and glancing at the few servants still scurrying about, doing Wyrm knows what. Speaking of, "Is that butler of yours still coming?"

“...Unlikely.”

"Then I'm really doing you a favor, Watcher, staying by you. They'll think us too busy with one another to speak with. You shall only put up with myself tonight rather than a barrage of needy, questioning nobles."

"I would rather garner temporary attention on my lonesome than by being your companion throughout tonight, Victor."

"What with your rank, I am sure they'll see myself as a guest in  _ your _ presence."

"Baron, to be blunt, my problems with this situation lie with you. I know not how many ways you wish I phrase this sentiment before you acknowledge it. Leave me."

“Oh, come now  _ L _ -”

Lurien hissed: “Leave me.”

The watcher’s command was final.

This once, Victor would concede.

“Very well, Watcher.” He shook the biting, eerie ache in his chest and gave a curt nod. Lurien spoke nothing else.

It was strange, how much Lurien appeared to care about Hegemol.

In all his time managing the city beside the other Overseers and Hegemol, the Knight hardly tried to familiarize himself with Victor. How the two most stubborn, closed-off people he’s ever met even _began_ to speak with one another to reach that point, then, he didn’t care to discover tonight. Bitterness was already weighing on him, he intended to reserve his energy for other pieces of the evening. He’d done this song and dance for over half his life and he’d be damned to let himself falter here.

When Emilitia called for him, he reluctantly put on a grin to meet her. He met her companion’s steeled gaze, forcing himself through the motions as Emilitia offered him a seat beside her.

“Baron,” This one had the audacity to make her own _bow_ toward him a mockery.

“Lovely Avery,” He returned with a daring smile. “I hadn’t expected to see you again, so soon."

“Funny how your plans always end up that way, isn’t it?” She regarded him warily. “I see the scorpion’s bloodlust is not yet settled despite what it’s wrought.”

Emilitia glanced between the two, a laugh slipping into her words. “Oh, my. You two oughtn’t fight just yet. There’s plenty, _plenty_ time later if we must.”

He sighed. “Will you not at the least defend me from this baseless attack?”

She hummed. “Victor is not a scorpion despite his attitude, Avery.”

“No, Emiliita, that bit was a _metaphor-_ ” Victor cut himself off, shaking his head. Try again, divert the blame himself. A simple, easy task. He adopted an understanding, sympathetic tone, “Dear Avery, I assure you my days as Overseer are long past. What harm was done is long forgotten.”

“How I wished I shared your confidence, a certainty rivaled only by that of an imbecile.”

“Avery, it is _far_ too early in the night to use such language,” Emiliita trilled, easily downing her drink, “Insult him later once I’ve gathered the others, I’m sure we’d all just absolutely _love_ to hear you two.”

Victor almost forgot how irritating she was. From Avery’s less than enthused posture, he assumed she felt the same. This was an issue reserved for later, thankfully. He still had time to regain himself and figure out _how_ he was ever meant to talk away someone he meant to exile silently and be done with.

If only she weren’t so damnably persistent, it would’ve been significantly easier to bear this night without her presence hanging over his head. Even now, he could hardly believe she was assumed important enough to warrant a seat _here._

Nonetheless, he would keep Avery from finding any more ground than she already had. It was idiotic to ever lead her on in the first place, give her anything which would level his position with hers. Of all his enemies to take him down, it would not be this one.

He could salvage this. He had yet to pick up what she intended to do with what she had, and doubted he’d find the time tonight to piece it together, but he could play this.

He could play it _much_ easier were he not already so impulsively irritable. A waiter stepped toward their table, a touch too close, obliviously offering to replace their drinks despite the clear fact Emilitia had just retrieved another full one and the other two hadn't touched their own.

Victor didn’t even bother to turn as he snapped: “Do you not _see?_ ”

“At least _acknowledge_ them,” Emilitia urged with a laugh, her movements careless—he was a moment too late to stop her from knocking away one of the drinks on their tray. It shattered, staining the ends of her cloak. “Oh dear.”

Victor sighed, pulling out a spare napkin and handing it to her just as she passed off the larger shards of broken glass. He addressed them sharply, “Find something proper to clean this mess you’ve made. Go on.”

They squeaked an earnest apology to Emilitia, glancing nervously at him before running off. They went as fast as they could while still being careful as to not to drop much else.

It didn’t take long for Emilitia to move on, prattling on with some useless conversation she easily dragged Avery into. Victor remained silent as he watched the waiter, their nervous tracks stopped only by a pair who had just entered.

Victor sighed as the taller's, Lurien's, gaze raised to meet his. Were it not for his unique mask, Victor could’ve easily mistaken him for another with that posture. He was still, but not with the tense steadiness he’d enforced before. Rather, it was unusually calm.

He blinked.

What a descriptor, ‘calm’. He hadn’t thought he ever associated the watcher with that specific note before. Collected, of course, it was difficult to place his clear voice as anything but; he was undoubtedly a loyal, stalwart force in comparison to most. Victor supposed none of this inherently lined with calm. Strange.

Feeling Avery’s gaze on him, he returned to the other two currently set on this table, leaning just so he may keep note of Lurien and his little companion without being as conspicuous.

Lurien spoke with the two. He nearly took the tray from the waiter, _would_ have, had that thing beside him not stepped in. Ridiculous.

Although the watcher refused to allow Victor to do so much as touch his shoulder, he was apparently perfectly fine offering what was almost—had Victor not thought better of him—affectionate. He placed a hand atop his butler’s mask, a momentary action disturbing enough to force Victor to turn away.

He favored his drink instead. He’d seen enough of that nonsense. Let Lurien indulge in someone so unworthy, he would inevitably take the fall for such kind associations with those undeserving of him. Victor wouldn’t endorse whatever word regarding this came along, of course, but he wouldn’t put a stop to it should it bud from Lurien's needless consideration of those so far beneath him. Speculation was no crime to atone for.

Especially with one as evasive as that bastard.

Oh, yes, everyone knew well the King’s Watcher. Personally, Victor understood what it meant to keep Hallownest’s Heart, more so than any other in his shared role as Overseer. It was _Lurien_ who was difficult to discern, who escaped every attempt another made to pin him for what he was.

Were Victor any other, he supposed he’d learn to be content with the fact Lurien was a puzzle not built for him to solve, unlike these two beside him now, _never_ as simple as the other nobles who he needed but a glance to gleam their game.

While he knew the watcher, he would never know Lurien.

How he hated to yield to such a disappointing conclusion. Fascination is never so easily settled.

To deny this truth would be a fool's endeavor, a title Victor would take in stride.

**Author's Note:**

> lurien's an onion and victor's a vampire
> 
> on a real note, i do want to mention the section where victor calls lurien 'young' is inaccurate. lurien is only 'young' in that victor's been in hallownest since it first began to grow. victor's a super old dude, as are all the other previous overseers, and they're only still alive because of their connection with hallownest's heart. if victor's 180, lurien's just 45. lurien's still a whole adult, victor's just a bitter bastard who's been around way too long.
> 
> comments n kudos mean the world to me :]  
> 


End file.
